Flamecrest
by Tootie219
Summary: A young orphan girl faces many emotional challenges and through her bravery and good deeds she gains more friends than she could ever hope for.
1. Chapter 1

**By Tanna**

Introduction-

It was a dark and stormy night…

Okay, so I won't start with that. But there is something I have to tell you. I was once in such a state that allowed something supernatural to escape me by my own force, if you will. Sure, call me a witch or a magician.. but I'm telling the truth.

I won't ruin the whole story by telling you what happened. What I will say is this: be wary for surprises and turns, and quite a few funny moments, but more importantly my journals.

Oh, and..

My name's Alyssa. Aly for short.

Chapter 1-

My mom told me when I was three about my birth. It surprises me that I can remember it, but then again, it was barely after that when she ran away.

Left me.

My daddy was older. Much older. When my mom told me, I really had no idea what it meant, but as I grew I found out.

My dad had tricked my mom - almost forced her to.. well, you know. Get in bed, at a party. I was an accident, a mistake, and a huge sign of what is wrong with the world. Mom told me so, and until May 7, 1996, she had taken okay care of me.

I was named by my mom and half-aunt, half because she was married to my.. wait, that makes her an eighth… nevermind.

Mom picked my first name, Alyssa of course, I guess she just thought a pretty name would lighten her spirits about me and the whole ordeal.

Aunt picked middle name: Dorunn. Why, I don't know.

Last name… Loner. Somehow I swear, she was a good enough mom to take a peek into my future, one that even I couldn't predict.

What was I supposed to do when I found her name in the newspaper?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2-

Truly sunny days are rare in Veneta, Oregon, but that morning was particularly hot.

Orphaned yet again by a pair of college sisters, I went off to a deserted park with adequate shoes and a new jacket. The sisters had given me one hundred dollars to try and fend for myself.. they really tried to raise me. But with college, which I've heard is gruesomely hard to keep up with now, how could I expect them to?

Sitting in a swing, I start reviewing thoughtfully what has happened in my life so far. I did not know that I was not normal, however I appeared on the outside. I knew I was _something_, just not what.

It was then that a few teenage boys drove up into the parking lot laughing and playing basketball. Feeling opportunistic, I casually walked over to them and asked if I could try and play. One -he seemed to be younger than the rest- looked at me as if I were a monster. The rest pretended not to notice me, and one went to get a drink of water.

After the feeling of extreme embarrassment passed, the young one came over with obvious worry in his eyes and asked me if my parents were around.

"No," I said. "My parents don't take care of me. I don't want any pity, though. Can we be friends?" I asked daringly.

After a long pause, he agreed. "I'll be here, without my friends, on Saturday." He whispered. "We can play then." He obeyed the beckon by a tall teen he called a friend.

I skulked back to my swing and found something papery rustling in the wind. I ran after it, hoping to up my reading skill. Even after my foster 'parent' sisters had tried to teach me, I was not quite able to read smoothly.

Picking it up, I saw the familiar characteristics of an old newspaper. Unfolding the only two pages that were left, I scanned them for anything I could read.

WOMAN IN CRASHED CAR FOUND DEAD

Police have found what seems to be a suicide. A young woman, estimated to be about 35, showed up at the edge of a low-travel country road, dead in her crashed car.

Experts say that "no tire marks meant no struggle." Tests showed large amounts of alcohol in the blood of the victim.

Further studies reveal that the woman was named Rita Warder, with no apparent family.

My mom..

My eyes welled with tears. Maybe, if she hadn't left me, she would still be alive.

Dear Journal…

This is my first real entry, real because I did it willingly. My foster sisters had wanted me to write the exciting things that happened every day. Truth was, the most exciting thing there was finding a cockroach swimming around in the toilet.

Eww.

Anyway, I have a feeling that the little dirty newspaper in the park was sent to me. Some sort of sign. I was sure now that I would never see my mother again. The newspaper didn't even have a picture.

I'm not sure I would ant to see one, anyway.

I am in the playground tunnel right now, watching the sun reluctantly start to lower. I will write about myself now, to help relieve some of the hurt in my stomach.

I am eleven now, by my count. I was never good at math. What I do know is that I was born right here, in Veneta, on August 17, 1992. I am trying to keep track of the dates, but with my condition I dont know if it will ever matter again. I think it's Thursday… September 16.

Thinking back, I do vaguely remember sitting on my couch, bawling. I was about three, and so was my mom's dog, Stone. We had grown up together, facing my mother's harsh words when she drank. Stone was curled in her bed, crying with me. I had not seen my mother in two days, and I was hungry. And thirsty.

Not knowing any better, I crawled over to Stone and licked her nose. It was wet, and tasted good. We both fell asleep together.

I was awoken with a deep bark. Stone must have sensed something, because she led me out of the dog door and onto my porch.

Suddenly, she bolted down the sidewalk. I remember crying, shouting her name. "Stooooone" I called. "Come back!" and burst into tears again.

Not a minute later she returned, only with a young man following her. Even running he could not keep up with her steady jog.

Seeing the man made me glad for a human being, by then it didn't even matter if it was my mom. I giggled pitifully, reaching toward the man. He looked down at me with lips and eyes that said 'is this a joke? I didn't ask the crane for a delivery'.

Hesitant, he picked me up and comforted me, knocking on the door.

No answer.

He tried again. No answer.

Finally he called the police. Finally, finally.

They arrived and started asking questions. Lots of them. I was so upset, because even as a toddler I could understand what my mom had done.

It is getting too dark to write now. I will keep the newspaper and hide in this tunnel tonight.

Goodnight, Aly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2-

Truly sunny days are rare in Veneta, Oregon, but that morning was particularly hot.

Orphaned yet again by a pair of college sisters, I went off to a deserted park with adequate shoes and a new jacket. The sisters had given me one hundred dollars to try and fend for myself.. they really tried to raise me. But with college, which I've heard is gruesomely hard to keep up with now, how could I expect them to?

Sitting in a swing, I start reviewing thoughtfully what has happened in my life so far. I did not know that I was not normal, however I appeared on the outside. I knew I was _something_, just not what.

It was then that a few teenage boys drove up into the parking lot laughing and playing basketball. Feeling opportunistic, I casually walked over to them and asked if I could try and play. One -he seemed to be younger than the rest- looked at me as if I were a monster. The rest pretended not to notice me, and one went to get a drink of water.

After the feeling of extreme embarrassment passed, the young one came over with obvious worry in his eyes and asked me if my parents were around.

"No," I said. "My parents don't take care of me. I don't want any pity, though. Can we be friends?" I asked daringly.

After a long pause, he agreed. "I'll be here, without my friends, on Saturday." He whispered. "We can play then." He obeyed the beckon by a tall teen he called a friend.

I skulked back to my swing and found something papery rustling in the wind. I ran after it, hoping to up my reading skill. Even after my foster 'parent' sisters had tried to teach me, I was not quite able to read smoothly.

Picking it up, I saw the familiar characteristics of an old newspaper. Unfolding the only two pages that were left, I scanned them for anything I could read.

WOMAN IN CRASHED CAR FOUND DEAD

Police have found what seems to be a suicide. A young woman, estimated to be about 35, showed up at the edge of a low-travel country road, dead in her crashed car.

Experts say that "no tire marks meant no struggle." Tests showed large amounts of alcohol in the blood of the victim.

Further studies reveal that the woman was named Rita Warder, with no apparent family.

My mom..

My eyes welled with tears. Maybe, if she hadn't left me, she would still be alive.

Dear Journal…

This is my first real entry, real because I did it willingly. My foster sisters had wanted me to write the exciting things that happened every day. Truth was, the most exciting thing there was finding a cockroach swimming around in the toilet.

Eww.

Anyway, I have a feeling that the little dirty newspaper in the park was sent to me. Some sort of sign. I was sure now that I would never see my mother again. The newspaper didn't even have a picture.

I'm not sure I would ant to see one, anyway.

I am in the playground tunnel right now, watching the sun reluctantly start to lower. I will write about myself now, to help relieve some of the hurt in my stomach.

I am eleven now, by my count. I was never good at math. What I do know is that I was born right here, in Veneta, on August 17, 1992. I am trying to keep track of the dates, but with my condition I dont know if it will ever matter again. I think it's Thursday… September 16.

Thinking back, I do vaguely remember sitting on my couch, bawling. I was about three, and so was my mom's dog, Stone. We had grown up together, facing my mother's harsh words when she drank. Stone was curled in her bed, crying with me. I had not seen my mother in two days, and I was hungry. And thirsty.

Not knowing any better, I crawled over to Stone and licked her nose. It was wet, and tasted good. We both fell asleep together.

I was awoken with a deep bark. Stone must have sensed something, because she led me out of the dog door and onto my porch.

Suddenly, she bolted down the sidewalk. I remember crying, shouting her name. "Stooooone" I called. "Come back!" and burst into tears again.

Not a minute later she returned, only with a young man following her. Even running he could not keep up with her steady jog.

Seeing the man made me glad for a human being, by then it didn't even matter if it was my mom. I giggled pitifully, reaching toward the man. He looked down at me with lips and eyes that said 'is this a joke? I didn't ask the crane for a delivery'.

Hesitant, he picked me up and comforted me, knocking on the door.

No answer.

He tried again. No answer.

Finally he called the police. Finally, finally.

They arrived and started asking questions. Lots of them. I was so upset, because even as a toddler I could understand what my mom had done.

It is getting too dark to write now. I will keep the newspaper and hide in this tunnel tonight.

Goodnight, Aly.

Chapter 3-

Having slept in a tunnel, I was not in the best shape when I woke up. Stretching, I remembered by newspaper and one hundred dollars. I fumbled around and found it. Good.

I looked up, seeing a mother Robin up in her tree, _my_ tree now, the one with my swing on it. She had a wiggly worm and was chewing it for her children. Studying her babies, I wondered if my mother would do that for me if she were still alive.

I sighed and thought about what I would do today. Little did I know I was in for a huge surprise.. a few, and magical ones at that.

***

I spent the morning walking around, exploring what I guessed would be my new home for a while. Sneaking around the edge of the park, I saw the back of a very attractive and wealthy neighborhood. I figured I would have plenty of time to investigate, so I walked nonchalantly through a backyard and continued up and down the sidewalks, observing the decorations of the many different houses.

Breathing in cool air, I heard a small whimpering noise and looked around. "Oh, my.." I whispered to myself.

There, across the street, was a pathetic looking litter of puppies in a dilapidated cardboard box; on a yard with a house that looked far too well-kept to have such a pitiful box for the small puppies. Looking each way for cars, I ran over to the box.

Kneeling, I stared at them. I counted- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 puppies, all a dark golden shade with some dark brown splotches on their backs and bellies. A note written in Sharpie read 'Free to a loving home'. I frowned and glanced at the door, to see if there was any activity or lights on inside. Instead I found a small notice: Repo'd. Please stay away. I wasn't going to argue with that.

Crawling back to the box, I gently dumped the puppies out, letting them run around a bit. They were too small to go very far yet.

I watched them play for a while before I decided I wanted one for myself. I romped around on the yard a bit, then settled down and cuddled each one of them, until I got to the runt of the litter. She was so sweet, she snuggled right up under my chin, rubbing her cold ears over my cheek. My thought process was going slowly in my mind.

Could I feed and love this little one enough? Could I supply for both her and I with 100 dollars? I was sure that if I didn't take her now, she would probably die out here. No one would want a runt, they never do.

Right then I knew we would be best friends. Hugging each of the puppies as a goodbye made me sad. I would hate to think that the rest of them might starve to death, too.

Thinking fast, I figured that if I could talk to the people at the local supermarket and get permission to post handmade notices, I could save their lives.

I could run fast.

I put my jacket over the box. It barely covered the top. I hoped I could make it to the supermarket before it closed.

Dear Journal…

I made it. I made it to the supermarket, and everything went as planned. I bought a new pack of pencils, a sharpener, a collar and leash and dog food for Pebble (I decided to name her that after I realized that she was almost a mini version of Stone), another notebook, some canned food and a can opener, a couple of small cereal packs, and a cheap hiking backpack to keep it all in.

I only had about thirty dollars left. I gave a dollar and my change to the nice man who had helped my advertisements look neat. I left the box with him, hoping that the store would get enough customers to take the puppies.

Pebble is here in my tunnel with me, her chin resting on my leg. Looking at her, I realized that we must have been through the same things; separated from our mothers at a very young age. I had a companion now, and we were the same. I think she, too, was sent to me. I cant help thinking that Stone had come back to me again.

Once again, it is dark. I hope my new friend will come in the morning.

I hope he isnt afraid of dogs.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4-

Today is Saturday, and my basketball friend is coming.

Pebble was awake before me, and I think she had to pee because she woke me whimpering; she could not get down out of the tunnel.

The sunrise was very pretty. I noticed with a quick laugh that the sound of Pebble peeing will now be associated with pretty sunrises. As horrible as my situation may have seemed, I felt happy. Happy that I was alive, happy that I had three friends, and happy that I was happy.

I couldn't help thinking when my friend would show up.. he looked about 14 or 15. Maybe he would forget about me. Or maybe he was just planning how to sneak out of his house, full of people that cared about him.

I shook my head. Wondering about things that only fate could change would do nothing. I had to think about something else. But what? What _exactly_ am I supposed to plan? I have learned not to make many plans.

Instead I clicked Pebble's orange leash onto her matching collar, wondering if she would grow out of it soon. I can't afford much.

Then it dawned on me. I had to get a job. I was only 11. How would that work? Perhaps my friend would help me figure that out. Wendy's wasn't hiring anybody under 16. I couldn't work in the mall… people would laugh at a small clerk, guiding around fashionable teens much older than me, and it wouldn't be good for business. I would be fired in an instant if I would even have a chance.

I was walking around the startlingly large park with Pebble, stopping to inspect certain courts, wondering what they could be for. I had heard of some sports and tried to identify the ones they were used for. Wow, being alone gave a lot of time towards thinking.

I had become very good at telling time after my near week alone again. Getting little Pebble to turn back and wait for my friend in midmorning was hard. I wondered if dogs got hungry like we do. She was probably hungry, and so was I. Thirsty, too.

I stopped and sat on my swing, letting go of Pebble's leash. She sniffed and waddled around before it was obvious she was looking for food.

"Hold on, little Pebble." I said reassuringly. "I have some yummy beef and peanut butter flavored dog food for you, right here in this pack."

I pulled her food container and my small box of Cheerios from my backpack, along with my notebook and pencil. I wanted to draw the playground. I wanted to draw my home, as I have at each new one I had lived in.

I washed out Pebble's bowl and filled it with fresh well water taken from under the playground, and drank myself. This reminded me of when my mother left. I think I will draw her in my playground.. and my new friend, and Pebble in the box of puppies, and the nice man at the supermarket.

***

It was late afternoon when my friend finally came. He was riding a bicycle, wearing a half-sleeve red sweater and Levis. His shortish dark blonde hair quivered in the cool breeze that was not uncommon in Oregon now.

"How long have you been waiting for me?" He didn't know how to start, after such an awkward introduction two days earlier, and neither did I. "You look tired."

"Since you left."

He had a puzzled look on his face, and I realized that he probably wouldn't expect me to _live_ at the playground.

"Okay. I know what you're thinking- I couldn't wait here for two days. Well I did. And I found a dog. Are you okay with dogs? I live here.. I'm an orphan."

I could tell that last statement startled him. I was bold and talkative around strangers- something I had always been proud of. Trying to think of what I would do if I had a normal life, what I would do if a strange younger girl walked up to you and yelled, 'Hey, I'm an orphan! Wanna be friends?' was impossible.

I had no idea what to say next. I didn't know what was going on inside his mind. I figured I might as well start with:

"What's your name? I'm Alyssa. Aly for short."

"Everyone here calls me Nate, but my real name's Kaleb. How.. how do you _live_ out here?"

I knew he would ask that, and I had no real answer. I held out my newspaper to him, and explained how I have went through more than 3 foster parents, and told him that the woman in the paper was my mom. I didn't feel like saying anything about my father.

The sun started moving down, and before he could say anything about leaving I brought up the topic of a job.

"Do you think.. do you think I could get a job? Know any places?" I asked him after some silence. He thought aloud, listing possible places; none of them seemed like they would hire me, a hobo orphan.

A pause made me tense up. What was he thinking about?

"Maybe my mom would hire you. You know, for odd jobs. Leaves are falling and we could use some help. Wanna come tonight?"

I was overjoyed.

***

Dear Journal…

I walked with Pebble and Nate today, back to his home. We made small talk and told more about ourselves. I had gathered enough courage to ask if his family would be okay with me being there; and he said that he had helped another orphan once.

Nate is 14, five seven, and I think I might be four eight. I am small. I think his family is downstairs cooking supper. How nice of his mom, she can take a hint. I didnt want new foster family, but I was glad to stay in a warm, roomy bed again. Her husband scares me.. I hope he doesnt see my journal. He is beardy, and tall, with a deep voice that rumbles around the house.

It is getting colder outside. I wonder what I will do.

I am called. I hope she cooks well.

Goodnight, Aly.


End file.
